


nostalgia / numbers

by miyaosamu (kunimi)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College, Introspection, M/M, arguably a mini character study for osamu in the college age years between high school and timeskip, mentions of atsumu. also semi & kuroo. kawanishi literally just namedropped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28070556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/miyaosamu
Summary: (His parents and coach had asked if he’d consider playing in college. Dropped scholarship possibilities in his lap. He’d refused calmly each time. He thinks that had confused them. He’s pretty sure Atsumu got it, though. Pretty sure Atsumu knew that Osamu had no intention of playing without his brother, even if he loved the game. Pretty sure Atsumu loved him better for it, even if he’d never say that, even if part of him still wished Osamu would keep playing.Osamu doesn’t regret it. He misses the sting of the ball against his palms sometimes—a lot of the time—but he’s happy with his choices. There are some things you just have to quit completely. Things you love, mostly.)miya osamu goes to college, misses his brother, meets boys he used to know in kitchens at parties. thinks about how things change, and how they don't.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	nostalgia / numbers

**Author's Note:**

> this is a posting of my drabble from my [twt thread!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1337892883244830720?s=20)
> 
> it was written for the prompt from hq abba lyric bot: [omigiri + honey i'm still free; take a chance on me](https://twitter.com/haikyuuabba/status/1337871114983399426?s=20) which vic put on my tl so. this is all her fault smh
> 
> iris made some art for it which absolutely made me lose my mind so! i'll link that at the end

College life sucks sometimes.

Like, Osamu doesn’t regret it. He knows what he wants to do in life, and he knows a business degree is going to help him get there. Just. Goddamn. He wants to be making food, not stuck fucking around with accounting homework until 2am. Math was always more Atsumu’s thing anyway— _Mr Ten Fingers Because I’m A Setter_ he may be, but he also knew how to do quadratics in his sleep. Osamu bets he would be able to work this assignment out.

He rubs his eyes. Fuck, he misses his brother.

Honestly, he misses people in general. Atsumu most of all, as much as he’d never tell him, but Osamu feels like it’s been 27 years since he last saw another person, like his world has been rewritten by numbers swimming across his eyes.

Aight. Fuck this. He’s getting out of his room. Accounting is tomorrow’s Osamu’s problem. Hopefully his hungover problem. He needs a fucking drink.

He slips out the door, and frowns at the silence that greets him. His complex is never empty, and it’s only 2am. What the fuck. He texts his neighbour, Kawanishi, asking what’s going on. All he gets in response is an address, which is just—typical, honestly.

He looks it up. Only two blocks away. Doable.

When he arrives, he finds a party in full swing. It seems to be a celebration for the volleyball team from his college. He won’t lie; that pinches his chest, just a little.

(His parents and coach had asked if he’d consider playing in college. Dropped scholarship possibilities in his lap. He’d refused calmly each time. He thinks that had confused them. He’s pretty sure Atsumu got it, though. Pretty sure Atsumu knew that Osamu had no intention of playing without his brother, even if he loved the game. Pretty sure Atsumu loved him better for it, even if he’d never say that, even if part of him still wished Osamu would keep playing.

Osamu doesn’t regret it. He misses the sting of the ball against his palms sometimes—a lot of the time—but he’s happy with his choices. There are some things you just have to quit completely. Things you love, mostly.)

“Miya!” someone shouts, and Osamu is still learning how to react to that. He’s always been called it, of course, but it’s been a long time since someone said _Miya_ and expected him to know they meant him. A long time since a bored _“which one?”_ wasn’t the obvious go-to response.

Maybe it’s not been a long time. Maybe college is the first time.

“'Sup,” he calls back, then heads into the kitchen to find himself a drink. He needs to not be sober right now, or his brain will keep yelling accounting at him, and kitchens are both a source of comfort to him and a reasonable location for alcohol. Win-win.

He finds alcohol. He also finds Sakusa Kiyoomi, which is another blast from the past. He’s not sure nostalgia is better than numbers, but, well, he’s already here. Might as well stick with it.

He’d known Sakusa was here, of course. Not at the party, but at the college. He still loves volleyball, even if he rarely watches the college team—what’s the point in torturing himself with something within reach?—and the best player he’s ever met (shut up, ‘Tsumu, you and Aran are still his favourites—and don’t go protesting on Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio’s behalf either) being on his local team was never going to slip his notice.

Everyone was surprised when Sakusa told Monthly Volleyball, in response to being asked what team he’d be on next year, the name of a college.

(It distracted a lot of attention from Osamu’s answer of “none”, accompanied with a shrug, in his joint interview with Atsumu. He’s grateful, though he wouldn’t know how to say it.)

They’re both here now, though, in the kitchen of this shitty apartment with too loud music and people they don’t know or care about in the next room. Says something about their choices. Gone from looking at each other across the net to across the kitchen island.

“Ain’tcha the guest of honour?” Osamu asks, opening a cupboard to search for cups.

Sakusa points wordlessly at the corner of the bench, where there’s a stack of clean solo cups. Osamu raises an eyebrow, nods in thanks.

“Semi and Kuroo dragged me here,” Sakusa says after a moment. Osamu cocks his head, trying to place the names.

“Shiratorizawa pinch server—setter in our first year—and Nekoma captain,” Sakusa explains. Well. That settles whether Sakusa remembers him or not. Which he supposes wasn’t really in question, but. It still warms him a little regardless.

“Are they on the team?” Osamu asks, pouring some soju into a cup. He holds it out in askance to Sakusa, who shakes his head. Osamu shrugs, recapping the bottle and sipping from his cup.

“No,” Sakusa says. “Kuroo’s in one of my classes and Semi’s my neighbour he has a crush on. So. They watch a lot, I guess.” He creases his brow. “Semi could out-serve most of our team, though.” He looks at Osamu. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“What, college?” Osamu asks, almost jokes. He tries not to feel even more pathetic about being grateful for Sakusa taking all the attention off the Miya twins splitting up.

But Sakusa shakes his head. “No, I knew that, I read your interview. I just didn’t know it was here specifically.”

Okay, that kind of gets Osamu, he won’t lie.

“You read it?” he asks. He’s caught on that. Sue him.

Sakusa nods. “I thought more news would focus on it,” he says, and Osamu laughs. Sakusa’s eyes widen slightly at the sound of it.

“Think that’s thanks to you,” Osamu says, half-teasing. “Everyone was too shocked at the best player in our year not going straight to V-league.”

Sakusa wrinkles his nose. “Hoshiumi would protest that description,” he says, and Osamu shrugs.

“So would ‘Tsumu. Still true.”

Sakusa looks at him for a long moment. “How come you don’t play?” he asks, blunt as a hammer, sharp as a knife.

Osamu sighs, the soju loosening up his facial expressions. “Wouldn’t be the same,” he says.

Sakusa hums. “Why’d you come here tonight?” he asks.

Just the two of them, late night at someone else’s apartment, trading truths to the soundtrack of trap music pounding from the other room. Osamu would never have guessed anything could be like this.

“Got fed up with accounting,” he says, and Sakusa’s eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s smiling behind the mask.

“Not your strength?” he asks.

“Fuck no,” Osamu laughs. “Sciences, literature, anything where we had to do presentations—whatever. All good. This? It sucks, but. Gotta get it through my head.”

Sakusa nods. “So you came here looking for...”

“A distraction,” Osamu says, then immediately realises how that sounds. He doesn’t take it back, though. Not when Sakusa Kiyoomi slouches against kitchen benches like that, has a hot new haircut, and remembers his interview.

Talks to him. Listens.

Sakusa nods, something more determined to it this time. “I’ll take that drink now,” he says, eyes on Osamu.

Osamu’s own widen a little, but he grins, grabbing a cup and pouring some soju into it. He hands it to Sakusa, who lets their fingers brush as he takes it.

Nostalgia beats numbers, Osamu decides.

**Author's Note:**

> hi you can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns)
> 
> iris drew the "you came here looking for..." / "a distraction" scene [here!](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1337975844686290944?s=20) and also osamu's "think that's thanks to you" & laugh and sakusa's eyes widening [here](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1337976355984588802?s=20) bc even if i say she is my enemy and i will battle her, every day she creates beautiful omigiri things that make me lose my mind so plsssss look at these i love them so dearly
> 
> again, original twt thread was [here](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1337892883244830720?s=20) if you want to see it on twt/RT/engage there/talk to me on it! this is a little cleaned up just for posting bc i wasn't dealing with the 280 char limit in here but it's just some v minor tweaks


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